Brilliant Lies
by Gemmi
Summary: When someone gets caught using an Unforgivable Curse, the punishment isn't always Azkaban


Brilliant Lies 

_Crucio_

He'd meant to lie, but the words got caught on the tip of his tongue, and they stubbornly refused to come out. He looked around, helpless. Snape towered over him, sneering lightly, but looking concerned none-the-less. 

"We're waiting, Mr. Malfoy." Snape finally muttered, looking at his beloved pupil in disgust; they were waiting, hoping, dreaming, trying to deny the power the word had held. 

"Not so strong without those two goons, are you, Malfoy?" Potter looked at him, and Draco shuddered. They didn't know. They couldn't know. 

"Perhaps. But then again." Draco let it sit at that, his wand inching forward towards Potter. Snape looked down at him in disgust. 

"Don't even think about it, Mr. Malfoy." Draco nodded once, and looked to the floor. The uneven stones called out to him, begging him not to tell tales of their inperfection. 

"Well." Draco was miserable. "I hadn't meant..." Potter gasped, quite loudly for effect. Draco looked him in the eyes, and knew, instinctively, that Potter didn't care either way. 

"Hadn't meant what, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape sneered once more. "Hadn't meant to use a curse so forbidden it could earn you a life sentence in Azkaban? Hadn't meant to hurt Potter? Well? We're waiting." 

Draco looked at the duo miserably. "Father taught me. And... It was out before I could think." He looked at the uneven stones once more. He deserved life in Azkaban. He deserved the pain, the unhappiness. 

"I'm not going to report him." Potter suddenly exclaimed. Snape looked at the boy with disbelief. Draco didn't look up from the ground. Three of the stones were slightly larger then the others, and they taunted him, teased him mercilessly. "That would be quite useless, he won't do our side any good locked up, now will he?" Harry looked at Snape, who was smiling ever so slightly. 

"I get what you're saying, Potter. Not a bad idea, really. Shame you aren't Slytherin." 

Draco still stared at the ground. He knew what those words meant, knew the sacrifice he'd have to make. He nodded once, showing he understood. Harry accepted it, and turned to leave. 

"No one is to know, understand Malfoy?" Harry explained. "No one. Not even Dumbledore." Draco tried nodding once more, but Snape forced his chin up. His eyes were filled with rage. 

"Don't just nod, say yes or call for Dumbledore." 

He was miserable, delightfully so. Life in Azkaban couldn't be worse then life with his father. Slowly, he prepared to call for Albus Dumbledore, but Snape saw the look of determination covering his face. 

"Draco agrees." Snape declared, looking Potter in the eyes. They were well guarded, showing not a trace of emotions. "and Ten points for Gryffindor for that look of pure indifference. Keep it up Potter, and you might just win the House Cup this year. That would make it 7 years in a row, wouldn't it?" 

Harry left the room without voicing a reply. 

~ 

Summer was supposed to be a time for freedom. It was time away from the school, from the magic. It was time meant to be a child, and do childish things. 

Draco always started learning hex's his second day at home. Not a minute was wasted, different tutors apparated in from all parts of the country. Draco was supposed to be a killing machine. 

He hated it, hated the looks his father gave him every time he got a curse wrong. He hated the plain indifference that was spread across his mother's face. He hated his life. 

At night, sometimes, he wondered if he would ever have the courage to end it, but knew he was too cowardly, too chicken. Every night after dinner his father took his wand away, scared perhaps of what Draco could do with it now. During the day the sunlight filtered out the anger, the greenery bore the brunt of his hurt. 

Even at the age of 12, Draco knew life was supposed to be more then tears, more then fear. He couldn't do anything about it, either. That was why he counted down the days remaining until the Hogwart's letter would arrive. Counted down the seconds, all the while scared that maybe this year Dumbledore would realize his mistake, and the letter wouldn't come. 

It was a relief to see the school owl fly in every July. It meant a day away from tutoring as he went to Diagon Alley for supplies. It meant another year, or more, before his father could mark him forever for Voldemort's service. 

At night he read muggle adventure novels; they killed the time rather mercilessly, and taught him lessons his father couldn't begin to understand. Reading about Narnia allowed him to believe in magic. Not the stuff he learned every year at Hogwarts, but the deeper, more instinctive magic's that related to emotion, and unwritten laws Voldemort had long since forgotten. 

He would gladly offer his body up on the rock table, gladly would he sit in the silver chair. Gladly would he fight to the death in the last battle, because death meant freedom. 

He wasn't sure why his father allowed it, but they appeared in his room every summer, new books filled with adventure's galore. For a while he thought his father didn't know about them, that maybe it was his mom trying to show she did care, just a little. That was his fairy tale. 

By now he had outgrown the adventure's Narnia could offer him; he recognized the thinly veiled religious subtext, and knew the muggle's had placed it there on purpose. Draco had contempt for that series now. But it didn't matter, because something else was always there to take his mind away from the pain. If he had been thinking, he would have seen the correlation. 

Draco tended not to think during the summer. 

~

"What do you want, Longbottom?" Draco sneered, looking down at the frightened third year. 

"N..N...Nothing." Neville stuttered out. 

"If that's the case," Draco looked down at the pitiful excuse for a wizard. "Out of the way, Squib." 

"I'm not a Squib, Malfoy." Neville blurted out before turning and running the hallway. Draco laughed, deep, belly laugh. 

"And I'm not a monster." He muttered to himself. 

~ 

"Do you think I can do it, sir?" Draco looked up at Snape, trying to turn a blind eye to the anger. 

"No. But you have to, anyway. So what I think doesn't matter." Snape sneered. 

"You do it." He pointed out before settling back in an arm chair, waiting for the response. 

"I was already a death eater, Mr. Malfoy. And kindly stay out of my business. That's not why you can't do it." 

"Why, then?" He questioned. 

Snape looked at the younger boy, nearly a man now. He had such animosity in his eyes, such anger. He hadn't wanted this, hadn't asked for any of it. "Because, Mr. Malfoy, you can not lie. Those eyes give everything away. You'll get caught sooner rather then later, and Mr. Potter will have had his revenge without having to soil his own hands. That's why he proposed the deal." 

"Oh." 

~ 

One summer evening, when Draco turned to his bookshelf, determined to turn his mind away from the horror's he had spent the morning learning, the books weren't there. Nothing lay on his shelf at all, except for a tablet of paper and a pen. Muggle pen, at that. 

He'd spent an hour trying to figure out what had happened to his beloved adventures. They had been his escape, his only true reason for tolerating this entire summer business as it were. He'd been half finished with The Two Towers, and wanted to know what was going to happen to Legolas and Pippin and Frodo. 

That evening he went to bed early, and dreamt of worlds unimagined. 

~ 

The Slytherin common room was his least favourite room in the entire castle. Everyone gathered there and hopelessly talked about evilness and the like. Not all of them were children of Death Eater, but they all wanted power and were willing to do anything to aquire it. It was nearly a house requirement. 

Blaise talked for hours about potions, of all things, that would allow him to treat the world as his servants. He had actually listened to Snape that first day of potions, and since then wanted nothing more then to bottle fame. 

Draco nearly felt sorry for the boy, but caught himself in time. 

Pansy was obsessed with Divination, of all things, and spent hours trying to predict what would happen to Draco and the others with frightful results. Nearly everyone believed her, except for himself and Snape. But neither would admit to it, even under pressure, and thus far were told they would not only die three times each, but would die in the arms of each other. 

Draco had never laughed so hard in his life. Except for the time when Pansy had told him that he was indeed queer, and if he would only stop looking at Lupin that way, things would be alright. But Draco hadn't even smiled in return, and instead of merely looking at Lupin, allowed himself to get caught staring a few thousand times since. 

The Slytherin common room was his least favourite room in Hogwarts, but at least he wasn't alone there, alone with his nightmares and his dreams and his fear. 

~ 

When Draco was seven, and still believed in the world at large, and more importantly, his father, he had hated lessons. They took his precious time away, filling his brain with lessons in logic and cold reasoning in the face of danger. Even if he was only a child, he had been treated as an adult, and as one nothing was spared. 

Other's were merely told about certain events in history; Draco was transported back in time to witness it first hand, before writing two bloody scrolls about it. His father thought it strengthened his young child's resolve to be evil. Draco merely saw it as Wizard's being stupid, getting caught up in feuds that ultimately didn't matter, and only caused more death. 

He had sworn to his house elf, Dobby, that he would never cause that much pain. Dobby had agreed and as a reward given him a piece of chocolate cake. 

Looking back on it now, he might have to break his word to Dobby. His father deserved at all that pain, and more. 

~ 

"Potter." Draco whispered into the hallway. He was waiting for their appointed meeting time, waiting for instructions on what to do, and who to spy on. He didn't have to wait long. 

"Malfoy. Good, you're here. I wondered if you had the guts to follow through on Snape's promise." 

"I'm here." Draco looked at the uneven stone floor. It would be a shame to get it bloody, a real shame. 

"Good." Draco waited for his instructions. None came. 

"So..." He finally ventured, looking through the darkness, trying to find Potter, trying to see anything at all that would suggest life. He heard nothing. Waiting a little longer, he realized he was alone. Potter had left him standing there, alone. 

He turned to go back to his common room, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning around, he saw half moon glasses and a sparkle of long white hair. 

"Mr. Malfoy, come with me please." 

~ 

Two nights after his books disappeared, Draco began to use the muggle writing tablet and pen. The horror's wouldn't leave his head, and he felt he would go insane if he didn't do something, anything, to get the evils of the day off his mind. 

He had never written poetry before, or drawn, but both seemed to come with a natural ease. 

Pages upon pages filled up that summer, and never once did the tablet run out of paper. It was a magical tablet, set upon him to teach him a lesson. 

He didn't think that far ahead. 

~ 

"Professor Dumbledore." Draco whispered once the two were ensconced in the private office hidden behind lock and silencing spells. 

"Mr. Malfoy." 

Neither said anything else. The silence was deafening. 

Looking down at the ground, Draco began to count the uneven stones that seemed to follow him throughout the castle. 

"You should never stare at the ground; people treat you with more respect if you have the courage to look them in the eye." 

"I never said I was courageous." He whispered, not tearing his eyes from the ground. 

"Perhaps, but then again." Dumbledore responded, throwing Draco's own words back in his face. 

"You were there that night? How can you bear looking at me? Even Snape doesn't like looking at me anymore." Draco looked up from the floor and caught a slight twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. 

"Because, Mr. Malfoy, Iknow when people do something out of fear, not anger." 

"I wasn't scared." Draco denied. Dumbledore nodded, slightly. 

"I also know when people lie. You're eye's give you away, Draco." 

"Snape said the same thing," Draco confided. Dumbledore smiled and leaned foward. 

"Snape's eye's gave him away far too often, when he was young. I taught him how to hide behind a facade. I can teach you, if you'd like." 

"I'd rather not hide, sir. I've hid my entire life." 

"Ah yes, those muggle books. I believe you're favourite's were the Chronicles of Narnia, if I remember correctly." 

"How..." 

"Did you really think your father gave those to you? Or your mother?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't even wait for Draco to answer. "I put charms of them so you would be the only one who saw them. I thought you could use an escape. I didn't think I was teaching you to hide, but I was." 

"Sir?" 

"That's why I exchanged them for a tablet and a pen. Writing made you face your fears." 

"I don't understand." 

"You're not meant to, not now. But soon. Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked. Draco smiled slightly and held out a hand. The muggle candy was placed gently in his palm. 

"Go to sleep, Draco. I'll contact you soon." 

"Sir? Why aren't I in Azkaban?" 

Dumbledore looked at the young boy sitting, terrified. "Because I don't like the idea of punishing you for your father's mistakes. I couldn't save you earlier, when you needed it. Because I need another spy, eventually. Lots of reasons." 

"How about the truth?" Draco dared himself to look into Dumbledore's eyes. He saw the fright for a second before the facade was placed back, covering any emotion Dumbledore had dared show. 

"One day. Not tonight." 

"Thank you." 

"Don't thank me. Don't." 

~ 

"Mr. Malfoy, ten points off Slytherin for a barely recognizable shrinking potion, when today we were focusing on truth serums." Snape bit out, looking at Draco's cauldron in disgust. 

"Yes sir." 

"What? Nothing else? No snide comments about what needs to be shrunk?" Ron whispered to Harry, looking at the scene pouring out in front of their eyes. 

"Cut him some slack, Ron." Hermione commented, looking down at her own truth serum. It looked a little thin, so she added a couple Fairy Wings to counteract the abundance of water Ron had added. The serum thickened up remarkably. 

"Ahh, Ms. Ganger. You're potion looks remarkably similar to what it's supposed too. Why don't we test it out one member of this class. You're choice." Snape commented, pausing in front of Hermione's cauldron 

"You, sir." Hermione decided, waiting for the sarcastic response she knew would come. Snape smiled, took a sip, and looked at her. 

"It'll wear off in two minutes. Give it your worst." 

Hermione looked shocked, she hadn't expected him to actually comply with her wishes. Ron was biting back a comment, and Harry simply stared. The entire class was waiting to hear what Hermione would dare ask their professor when he was under the influence of a truth serum. Hermione didn't say a word, causing them to wait impatiently. Draco suddenly found his courage. 

"Do you hate me?" He called out from the other side of the room, knowing he could earn a detention for the stunt, but knowing the answer would be well worth it. 

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I should have known you would take advantage of my situation." Snape sneered, crossing the room at a glide. "The answer is most decidedly no." Snape settled in front of him. "I do, however, hate some of your actions. Such as this." 

"Really?" Draco looked at him in shock. He was certain the potion's master had hated him, for following in his father's footsteps. 

"Really. Ten points to Slytherin for taking advantage of a situation that no one wanted to act upon." Snape decreed before heading back to the front of the room. 

"Do you hate my dad?" Draco called out, stopping the older wizard in his tracks. He turned, looked Draco straight in the eye, and nodded once. 

"Don't let it go to your head, and don't repeat it. Any of you." Snape snarled out to the class. "Dismissed." The seventh year's all but ran out the door, Hermione staying behind. 

"I didn't add the Dragon's Blood. The potion wasn't ready." She commented. Snape nodded, smiling. 

"I saw what color it was, I also knew Draco needed a couple truths sorted out for him." 

"You knew he would do that?" Hermione looked at her Potion's Master in surprise. 

"He is a Slytherin, after all. I pride myself in knowing how they respond to certain situations." 

"Then you know about Harry, and what Draco did to him." Hermione commented. Snape nodded before turning away. 

"I suggest, Ms. Granger, that this conversation take itself no further. Understood?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Thirty points to Gryffindor. Go catch up with you're friends." 

"Yes sir." 

~

Draco stared at the paper tablet in front of him. He hadn't written much on it yet, but the one poem he had written more then inducted the tablet onto the list of things he cared about. 

His eyes skimmed over the words, letting the pain wash over him. 

He knew his father told him lies, brilliant lies, about the future. He just never wanted to come face to face with the truths. 

_end_ 


End file.
